


a treatise on the fall of great houses

by malfaisant



Category: Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfaisant/pseuds/malfaisant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death comes to Tony Stark in a very familiar form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a treatise on the fall of great houses

**Author's Note:**

> solicits came out and I was upset by the possibility of Tony dying in Ultimates so I beat Marvel to the punch and now they can't hurt me. slight gregtony.

He supposed this wasn’t such a terrible way to die. He was propped upright against a pile of rubble, a rock digging into the base of his spine, the drying blood on his face starting to itch, but on the whole, he’d imagined worse. Dying on the concrete like this while trying to save the world, yeah, he could do worse.

_God, was this really it though?_

Tony catalogued his wounds, his injuries. Light-headed, concussion, left arm twisted and broken, severe blood loss from the lacerations on his chest and torso from exploding shrapnel piercing through the armor, likely blood poisoning--oh, a rebar was poking through his chest. That was bad.

He should stop the bleeding somehow, but he couldn't even muster the strength to shout for help. His armor was dead weight around his limbs.

 _Well,_   _I did what I could._

A child's voice spoke in his ear, small and confused. "Tony? Tony, are you okay? Tony, you should stand up."

He could feel Anthony nudging his shoulder, a tangible weight even though that must be impossible, because Anthony was impossible and only ever in his head. "Did I do something wrong?"

The weight of the small hand on his shoulder reminded Tony of the fact that he had always been living on borrowed time. He gave a weak smile, and said, "No, I'm alright. None of this is your fault."

"I can feel something tugging me away. I can't go away yet."

The crashed helicarrier burned around him. He could move his head from side to side, scan his surroundings, but all he could see were the other dead and dying, civilians caught in the crossfire. The sky was cracking with thunder and lightning, along with force fields flickering in and out of existence. Thor and Sue must still be alive and fighting somewhere, then. But to his far left he saw Hawkeye and a whole group of SHIELD agents face down in the rubble, completely still and unmoving. He hoped Steve was still alive.

"Tony?"

"Shh, I'm okay," replied Tony. "Just resting my eyes for a bit."

Ash and dust landed on his face, but all he could feel was a numbing cold. He thought he heard shouting, the crunching sound of footsteps, and the far-off rattle of guns, but he'd already decided to ignore it.

In the distance, he could hear a voice, frantically shouting into a comm unit. "We have a man down and wounded! We need backup here!"

 _I'm sorry, I can't move_ , Tony thought blankly.  _I can't help you._

The last sensors of his armor were slowly going offline, just like his body, and soon Tony would be dead and the armor as well, the most fitting coffin he could ever come up with. At the very least, he could never regret that.

"Well, this is a pathetic sight," a voice spoke, and a painfully familiar face looked down on him, casting him in shadow, blotting out the dazzling lightshow of the battle in the sky far above, where Tony had fallen from.

Well, speaking of regrets.

Tony grunted, opening his eyes. "I was wondering when you'd show up. Thought you'd be late or something."

"I'm never late," the voice replied, mildly affronted.

Gregory stood above him, hands in his pockets, all in white, and looking younger and far more content than Tony could ever remember seeing him when he was alive.

"Come to gloat, darling?" Tony said, coughing half his words. His breathing was becoming labored, ragged. "Worse ways to go than being bested by Reed Richards and the Hulk, y'know."

Greg simply shrugged, and brushed ash off his shoulder. "It would've been a far more dignified death to be killed by me, but since when did you ever listen to your older brother?"

"It's not my fault you made for a terrible supervillain."

"My mistake for not killing you first, I suppose."

On Tony's other side, Anthony had gotten up and was staring at Gregory curiously. "Can you help Tony?"

"I'm here to take him home," said Greg, speaking without inflection, but not harshly either.

"Such kindness," said Tony, a grin on his face as he looked straight at Greg. "So I guess I really am dying."

"What's your name?" said Anthony, his eyes wide and curious. He stood up, and tugged on Gregory's pant leg. "I'm Anthony."

Greg smirked, raising an eyebrow at the child. "My name is Gregory. I'm Tony's older brother."

"Twin brother," Tony interjected.

Greg rolled his eyes, but didn't contest it. He sat down beside Tony, and Tony rested his head on his brother's shoulder. He was dying, so he figured he could ask for this small thing. At least, Greg didn't nudge him off.

Anthony smiled at them both, and stood before the two of them, hands behind his back. He wore a young Tony's eyes and hair and scraped knees, all parts of Tony that Greg never hated--the spitting image of the younger brother that held his hand once upon a time, countless times, in the dark of an empty mansion they played in as children.

The child smiled widely, a familiar toothy grin, before he closed his eyes and spoke. "I'm glad Tony has someone. I was afraid he was going to be so lonely without me."

"I'll take care of him."

Anthony dissipated, disintegrating in the air like lines of code and memory, until he was gone, as if he were never there. Tony blinked. He must be dying in pieces.

He coughed, a mouthful of blood at the back of his throat. His vision was blurring, things in the distance turned hazy and unimportant. "What's dying like?"

Gregory's mouth was a thin line, and red was seeping into the white of his clothes. "It's dreadful."

"Are you taking me somewhere?"

"I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."

"Spoilsport."

"Impatient brat."

Tony looked down at the ground at his feet, where his blood was slowly trickling away from them. Tony curled his hands against his chest, his fingers itching for a glass of scotch to hold as a familiar weight. "This isn't how I imagined I would go."

Greg turned his head to the side so that his forehead was flush against Tony's, a hand brought up to cradle his face. "And does this frighten you, little brother?"

"No," said Tony. "You're here."

"Yes, I'm here," said Greg, splaying his fingers on Tony's chest, over Tony's broken hands, and Tony thought death must not be so bad after all. "Of course I'm here."


End file.
